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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28380720">Familiar faces, wrong places</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Tom Riddle, Pre-Slash, Time Travel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:49:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,035</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28380720</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A ghost is haunting Tom.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter &amp; Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>112</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Familiar faces, wrong places</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prequel to "In the darkness lingers" under orphan account.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their first encounter is a strange one. </p><p>Tom is lounging about near the fireplace in the empty common room with a book balanced delicately in his hand. It's still rather early in the night so he is lounging about on his own--having decided that he will read a bit before retiring off to bed. </p><p>As activities come to a close, the other students give him a wide berth, quickly scattering off to their rooms when they notice him occupying a chair. They know better than to disturb him during this time, well aware of how he likes his solitude while reading.</p><p>He is nearing the end of the book when it happens.</p><p>A loud crack reverberates throughout the room and all of a sudden, there is a stranger occupying the space in front of him. When his eyes settle upon the newcomer, he feels an odd tug at the back of his head--similar to that of a budding headache, perhaps--but he ignores it. Every nerve in his body is screaming at him to examine the stranger more thoroughly, to make sense of this strange person standing before him.</p><p>As he inspects the boy closer, he notices a few things that strike him as odd. The boy--well, teenager more like--looks like he could be a seventh year student at Hogwarts, but Tom is certain that he's never seen him before. It's not possible for him to have missed seeing him around either; those round glasses and unruly mop of hair stand out far too much. </p><p>The second thing he notices is the apparent lack of robes. The stranger is clothed in what looks like muggle sleepwear, of all things. From what he can gleam from the unraveling threads to how they hang much too loosely on the other boy's smaller frame, he concludes that the clothes must be secondhand. It's a begrudgingly familiar sight--the boy would fit in rather nicely with the children at the orphanage.</p><p>The last thing is the unnaturally shaped lighting bolt scar on his forehead. Even from where he's positioned a few feet away, he can see that the skin there is red and puffy and--if he's not mistaken, he can almost discern a bead of blood gathering along the bottom edge of the scar.</p><p>How...different.</p><p>Their eyes meet briefly.</p><p>As if his sudden appearance isn't strange enough, the boy immediately scrambles backward, not noticing the table right behind him. But instead of his foot catching against the corner and tripping him as it should, it passes directly through as he continues to back up. The entire time, he stares at Tom as if <em>he's</em> the oddity while a wide array of emotions pass over his face. They range from shock, to anger, to--now, is that <em>fear</em>?</p><p>Tom sets his book aside carefully so as not to spook him further, dark eyes drinking in the sight before him. </p><p>"Hello there," he says, plastering on a kind smile accordingly. "May I ask how you got in here? The slytherin common room is only accessible to students, which I presume...you are not?"</p><p>The older teenager slows to a stop. He opens his mouth as if to answer him, but before Tom can get a word out of him, he glances down abruptly--eyes intensely focused on something below him. Tom lowers his gaze as well, not wanting to miss out on any crucial details.</p><p>And what a sight it is.</p><p>Green eyes widen almost comically as the boy stares down at his legs and feet, which are currently phasing through the wooden coffee table underneath him. While rapid thoughts race behind those expressive eyes, Tom finds himself intrigued. He wants to reach through and examine each and every one of those thoughts--he wants to unfurl the mystery locked inside that mind of his. </p><p>But when the other boy meets his eyes again, he suddenly blinks out of existence--as if he'd never even been there to begin with. The firewood crackles beside him, breaking the silence and earning a brief glance toward the fireplace. He watches as the shadows cast by the flames dance, and he wonders. </p><p>His book remains discarded on the chair for the rest of the night.</p><p>...</p><p>For the next few days, Tom practically lives in the library. He goes through book after book, intent on solving the mystery behind what happened that night. Without much information to go off of, everything points toward one logical conclusion. </p><p>His late night intruder must truly be a ghost.</p><p>And yet, he's not satisfied with that explanation--there is something off. Sure, the boy passed through a solid object like a ghost would, but he hadn't looked transparent. Nor did his feet glide across the floor like the other ghosts that inhabited the castle. It's enough reason for him to continue his research.</p><p>During his spare time, he forms a plan. He starts conversing with the ghosts around the castle to see if they have ever seen or heard of such a spirit. When none of them show any signs of recognition, his theory is solidified. There's definitely more to the mystery than what meets the eye.</p><p>It's all but confirmed during Potions class.</p><p>As usual, he's seated in the front row near the front. He has to keep up his sociable facade for the ever gullible Professor Slughorn, after all. The eager fool has a habit of calling on him whenever a question cannot be answered by another student, and he'd rather not have to raise his voice just so that the oaf can hear him properly.</p><p>While the professor rambles on about what potion they'll be brewing today, Tom finds his attention waning. A familiar sensation begins to pulse in the back of his head. Then, quite abruptly--a striking flash of green passes through his vision. But before he can make sense of what he's seeing, it fades just as fast.</p><p>When his vision fully clears, he notices that the "ghost" is back. He is standing near Slughorn this time--who's still chattering on about ingredients as if someone hasn't just popped in out of nowhere behind him.</p><p>Tom keeps his expression neutral as the teenager looks around the room in obvious disbelief. A subtle sweep over the other students tells him all that he needs to know. None of the other students have noticed anything out of the ordinary, either.</p><p>Curiouser and curiouser.</p><p>He watches from the corner of his eye as the other boy moves forward. His footsteps are still hesitant, but his previous fears seem somewhat alleviated. His green eyes reflect a sense of wonderment rather than confusion now. Tom notes that he's wearing the same clothes as before.</p><p>A few more moments go by like this--the teenager walks around the classroom with ease, casually observing the lecture taking place. Tom wonders if it's just his imagination, or if he is purposely avoiding looking at him? Either way, it sparks a flame of annoyance within him.</p><p>The emotion must have slipped over his face momentarily because professor Slughorn is suddenly calling out his name.</p><p>"Tom? Are you feeling alright? You look a bit pale," he says, eyebrows rising up in concern.</p><p>All eyes immediately turn to him, green eyes included. </p><p>Tom considers his next words.</p><p>"I do feel a bit lightheaded," he admits, dark eyes drifting past the Professor's to land on their residential "ghost". He brings a hand up to rest against his forehead and experimentally massages the spot above his eyebrow. It has the intended effect--the other boy freezes in his spot. </p><p>Professor Slughorn nods in sympathy. "Then off you go, dear boy. This potion is particularly volatile and we don't want any nasty accidents. I'll have someone deliver the notes to you after class."</p><p>"Thank you, Professor," Tom says pleasantly, sliding his gaze back to Slughorn. The Professor smiles good-naturedly before returning back to the lesson. </p><p>Tom gathers up his belongings, movements methodical and precise. As he stands up to take his leave, he risks one last glance toward his mysterious target--but the unidentified boy has already disappeared once again. The sight stirs something dark and heavy in the pit of his stomach.</p><p>It's only when he's making his way down the hall, that a puzzle piece finally clicks into place. That flash of green that invaded his vision--he knows it. It was the familar flash of the killing curse. </p><p>The urge to know why and how is a crawling, desperate sensation. The feeling flows through his veins, fuels his pace. He's positive that the teenager is linked to it, somehow. He needs to see him again, but he will be patient. He suspects that all he must do is wait.</p><p>...</p><p>Three days later, his patience is rewarded.</p><p>Classes are over for the day, and Tom has decided to take a walk along the lakeside before sunset. Orange and yellow leaves crunch beneath his shoes as he walks, the air crisp and dry. There's a chilly undercurrent to the breeze, a sign that winter is creeping nearer.</p><p>"Tom!" A voice calls out.</p><p>He abruptly stops walking and looks for the source of the voice. To his inner delight, he finds that it is the boy again, sitting underneath the shade of a tree near the lake. Tom steps closer, looks him up and down.</p><p>"Do I get a name in return?" he drawls slowly with a tilt of the head.</p><p>Green eyes regard him intensely for a moment. "...Harry."</p><p>"It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Harry," Tom says, honestly. "I suspect the chance to make proper introductions doesn't come often for you, does it?"</p><p>Harry looks down at the grass, fingers twirling around a blade of grass. "You could say that." He shrugs as if it's no big deal. "You're the only one who's been able to see me, so far."</p><p>"Do you know why that is?" Tom asks with an air of casualness, as if he isn't desperately searching for the answer himself.</p><p>"...No?" Harry tries. "I don't know what I am, these days. I don't even know why I'm here, to be honest."</p><p>Tom lifts a curious eyebrow at that. "Were you not a student here?"</p><p>Harry looks up then, nods briefly. "I was, but--so much has changed since then. It's not the same as it was before."</p><p>"Such an existence must be awfully lonely. How do you not go mad?" Tom muses, stuffing his hands into his pockets to stave off the approaching cold. </p><p>"It's not so bad. Really. The castle itself is the same," Harry says. He turns his head to look out toward the lake. "I do wish people could see me, though."</p><p>Tom's eyes trace the outlines of Harry's face, committing every little detail to memory. "I can," he corrects, lightly. "See you, that is."</p><p>Harry's nose twitches, nearly imperceptibly. When he looks up again, his smile is somewhat forced. "Yeah, you can."</p><p>Tom is about to ask yet another question when a grainy image suddenly blocks his sight. For a brief moment, he sees a younger version of the teenager sitting in front of him. He's standing on a flight of stairs, wild flames raging behind him. His eyes are narrowed in defiance and it feels like he's looking right at him. </p><p>As the vision fades, it takes everything in him to keep his face a controlled mask. He's had an inkling that Harry was responsible for the visions, but now it's all but confirmed. No ordinary ghost, indeed.</p><p>"Harry," Tom says, voice betraying no emotion. "A Gryffindor, were you?"</p><p>Those vibrant eyes widen in surprise. "How did you--?"</p><p>"A lucky guess, I suppose," he tells him, thinking back to that look of defiance. </p><p>Harry looks away.</p><p>Tom suddenly has the urge to reach out and grab his chin, to make him look back into his eyes. He controls the urge, but it's the perfect opportunity to test a theory. He pulls his hand out from his pocket and offers it to Harry kindly. "It's getting late. Would you like to accompany me back to the castle?"</p><p>"I--uh," Harry fumbles for words, staring dumbly at the offered hand. </p><p>Tom smirks. "There's no need to look so stricken, Harry. I don't bite." </p><p>Harry's jaw clicks shut and he reaches for his hand. Just as Tom expected, the limb phases through his own, leaving behind a strange tingling sensation where their hands should have touched. Harry blinks, before sending him an unamused look.</p><p>"You knew that would happen," he accuses, pushing himself up to a stand on his own. </p><p>Tom lets his hand drop back down to his side. "Shouldn't you?" </p><p>His mouth opens and then closes before he sputters, "That--it's easier to forget than you'd think. There's no set rules to whatever is happening to me. What I can and can't interact with is very unpredictable, you know."</p><p>"I see. I never got an answer, by the way," Tom reminds him.</p><p>Harry deflates a bit. "Sure, I guess. Nothing else to do, anyway."</p><p>It sounds like Harry is settling for his company, but it doesn't bother him too much. He has plenty of time to change that, to make him beg for his attention. Now that Harry has found someone who can give him the attention that he so misses, he will keep coming back to Tom. The thought of having someone all to himself sends a gleeful jolt down his spine.</p><p>Tom waves an arm out toward the castle. "After you," he says.</p><p>...</p><p>Each time Harry appears before him, he receives a new memory. He initially assumes that it's Harry's memories, but that changes when he sees himself in the Chamber of Secrets reinacting some sort of future encounter between Harry and his horcrux. These are his own memories, without a doubt. Harry must be acting as some sort of gateway between himself and...a future remnant?</p><p>Before, Tom thought that Harry was a ghost of the past. Now, he realizes that it is the complete opposite. Harry is a ghost of the future.</p><p>The question is, does Harry himself know? He didn't seem to understand much of anything, if he were telling the truth that day. But appearances could be deceiving--he knew that very well.</p><p>As Tom retires for the night, his mind begins to plan.</p><p>...</p><p>An opportunity presents itself one afternoon, almost a week before Christmas. They are seated across from each other in the common room, a chess board positioned between them. In these past few weeks, he’s managed to chip down the defensive walls that Harry has surrounded himself with, one encounter at a time. Today he has proposed a game of chess. Of course, Harry has no idea that the true purpose of their "game" is to lower his guard before he goes in for the kill.</p><p>Tom moves a piece forward and without looking up, he says, “Who are you, really?”</p><p>Harry glances up from the board, the sudden question startling him. “What do you mean? I’ve already told you who I am.”</p><p>Tom lifts his gaze from the chessboard to level him with a calculating stare. It pleases him immensely, to see him squirm. “Harry. I know when someone is keeping secrets from me. And you haven’t been entirely honest with me, have you?”</p><p>Harry looks conflicted for a brief moment—bless his poor, naive heart. It takes him a second to gather his thoughts, to formulate a response that he will allow Tom to hear. “You’re right,” he finally says. “I haven’t told you everything. I didn’t think it was important, is all. Nothing to be done for it, really.”</p><p>Tom cocks his head to the side, feigning harmless curiosity. “Humor me, will you?”</p><p>“Well, you know when I seem to just suddenly disappear?"</p><p>"How could I forget?"</p><p>Harry gnaws at his lip. "Have you uh--ever wondered where I go?” Before Tom can answer, he suddenly shakes his head as if he's said something daft. "What am I saying? Of course you do. Why wouldn't you? It's not everyday that something like this happens."</p><p>Tom smirks at that. "It has certainly never happened before. I hardly have any complaints, however."</p><p>Harry swallows. “Right. So...turns out, I do go somewhere. For the past few weeks I’ve...lived a life that feels awfully like a dream. A place that feels so familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time. Surely you see why I left that part out? It sounds insane."</p><p>He is telling the truth—Tom knows—but still not the complete version of it. He wants to call him out on it, see how he’d react to what he knows.</p><p>“I believe you, Harry,” Tom tells him instead. </p><p>"You--you do?"</p><p>Tom's lip curves up some more. "Of course. Why wouldn't I? We are friends after all, are we not?" </p><p>"Erm, yes?" Harry ventures, evidently confused. He looks down at the board, unable to hold his gaze. "I've lost," he realizes, at last.</p><p>"So you have," Tom notes, posture nonchalant in the face of Harry's stiffness.</p><p>"I've never been the best at this game. Ron was always the expert," he explains, voice taking on a nostalgic tone. </p><p>"Ron?" Tom inquires, leaning in. "Was he a friend of yours?"</p><p>A beat passes, in silence.</p><p>Then, Harry stands up abruptly, pushing his chair back with a loud screech. "Sorry. I just remembered something important. I've got to go."</p><p>Tom isn't ready for their encounter to end yet--he hasn't even had the chance to reveal his trump card. This is the moment he has been waiting for, a culmination of weeks of planning. He can't let Harry just--<em>walk away</em>.</p><p>"You may think you have me fooled, but I know who you <em>truly</em> are," Tom whispers, intensely. </p><p>Harry doesn't respond. He simply inclines his head to show that he is listening, but only for the moment. Tom's next words must strike him, an emotional blow that keeps him well within his grasp.</p><p>"I know your true identity just as you know mine," Tom says, softly. "I've seen everything, <em>Harry Potter</em>."</p>
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